“You had an education?” It drops into the melancholic air between them naturally, like a barked curse when you stump your toe on a chair leg. A teasing, fond quip at the other’s expense fired on automatic – not unlike what a brother would do. “Huh… Wow. Guess you do learn something new every day.” [break][break]

Angelo opts to ignore the request for the nurse, still sipping at his coffee.[break][break]

“So is Chryssa from Kanto, too?” He asks in part assumption and part curiosity. After all, since he’d known Doug the Bug Catcher had managed to acquire an impressive array of titles; each time that Angelo had encountered him, he’d seemed to attach a new one to his belt like pokemon in their glossy capsules. [break][break]

Bug Association member, League Officer, Cave Tour Guide… Student. There was no way he could fit all that in around an education. Maybe that was how he got kicked out of school. [break][break]

“Getting expelled though, got to be a hell of a story…” Prying gently, Angelo leans forwards in genuine interest, elbows on his knees and hands curled around his nearly finished vending machine coffee. He takes another mouthful, shadowed blue eyes watching the teenager carefully for signs of defensive walls or warning signs that it was a subject best left unexplored.



[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

Angelo almost sprays a mouthful of cheap coffee in the teenager’s direction at the prison comment, if only because he can’t help but think the image is a scarily accurate one for the chaotic presence masquerading as an adolescent. Although, he thinks it's less of a crawl and more of a jail break… [break][break]

The comment on Chryssa’s accent and the accompanying smile is also not missed, although there is no outward sign that Angelo had picked up on it; save for a soft, knowing curl to his lips hidden behind the edge of his plastic cup. [break][break]

“And?” [break][break]

He’s leaned forward, on the edge of his seat – physically and mentally – and turning the now empty container in his hand, waiting for the next part of the story in ‘The Grand Adventures of Douglas and Chryssa: The Origin Story’. Angelo caught up enough in the tale Doug weaves, that it’s easy for him to momentarily forget the weariness sitting heavy under his eyes and the way the dawn light creeps in through the windows. A new day rolling in.[break][break]

“The pocket-size dancer challenged you to a showdown and you said: ‘No thank you, friend. I need to go back to school and study hard, I have dreams of going to college, someday. That calculus isn’t going to teach itself.’ Right?” His voice takes on a higher pitch, about as playfully mocking as it was a purposefully inaccurate impersonation.




[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

“Vermin? I’ll have you know that Carl is a very sweet, affectionate Wingull with only sixty percent evil in his heart.” He fires back, a hand coming to rest over his chest. “His wife – Patricia – is always going on about how he has the gentlest beak when snatching fries from their unsuspecting victims.” Despite a portion of Wingull turning into pesky scavengers upon Hoenn’s tourist beach hotspots, Angelo still had a particular fondness for them. [break][break]

Perhaps he just had a soft spot for aggressive, greedy opportunists. [break][break]

Dope. Hip. Gnarly. Angelo can’t resist the scoffed laugh that rumbles out of his throat, shaking his head at the teenager who had somehow made the words sound like he was an awkward fifty-year-old. Somehow, while sleep deprived and running low on fumes, it all seemed that much funnier. [break][break]

“Positively,” he mimics on a dry, snarky tone; fondness peeking through on a lopsided smile. “You’re not dumb, Doug. Don’t be an idiot.” Angelo makes to stand then, empty coffee cup in hand as he searches for a trashcan. “Doubt you’d need it but I’m alright with math, if you ever need a tutor. I’ll give you a discount.” [break][break]

As Doug continues with his story, Angelo finds the trashcan and throws his plastic container towards it from a distance. Missing completely. It bounces off a magazine rack and clatters to the ground noisily – along with a few pieces of reading material. [break][break]

Angelo keeps an eye on Doug, drawn fully into the story, as he picks his mess up. [break][break]

“So a silent, suspicious stranger cuts you off in the middle of the street? She then leads you off to a secluded area where nobody can hear you scream and she still gets the drop on you?” His lips curl, as if taking a strange sense of pride in Chryssa's cunning eccentricity while all the while feeling a prickle of amused, eye-rolling mock-dismay for Doug falling for it.  “Kind of deserved it then, Doug.”[break][break]


The courier pauses and then, he asks the most important question of all: “Did you get your free crepes?”


[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

“…?” [break][break]

Cheapskate? Angelo pauses, almost dropping a barely perused angler magazine that’s probably ten years out of date, as a strained expression is shot towards the teenager. Weary, exhausted eyes do not make it easy for him to slip on the calm, smiling mask as he usually prefers to wear – it makes his blue gaze look unintentionally darker, too – leaving the courier to regard Doug with a harmlessly annoyed scowl. [break][break]

“Hey, wait! I live in a tent too, you know.” Part-time but that was beside the point. But that’s younger brothers, for you; picking up on the unsavoury truth and rubbing it in your face. “Maybe if you made your pretty opponent’s pay their crepe-dues and not get suckered into buying them pizza, you wouldn’t need free math lessons.” Would've stayed in school, too, apparently.[break][break]

Returning the rest of the magazines back into a messy pile on a small chair-side table, not having the patience to stack them, Angelo stands just as Doug does. Watching with a lopsided smirk and his hands in his pockets as the Bug Catcher retells his and Chryssa’s story with theatrics that would not be misplaced in a pantomime.[break][break]

“Empress of the Seas, huh? Thought she crawled out of a high security prison?” Angelo’s lips curl, as if an amused thought had rolled through his mind about a quirky Sea Empress and a formidable Captain. That or he’s just delirious. “Unless the prison was a top secret facility, hidden away in the middle of the ocean... That could work.” [break][break]

It’s at this point in the story – when Doug lets out an uproarious ohohoho – that another visitor attempts to come into the break room, only to turn around as quickly as they had arrived. [break][break]

They go unnoticed. [break][break]

“…. Chryssa won. Didn’t she?”



[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

“Sounds like you ‘technically’ and ‘sorta’ lost.” He mimics Doug’s voice, pronouncing them with an inflated southern drawl, undeterred by the raspberry that is blown his way. If anything, it simply makes Angelo’s grin pull wider, pushing him to prod and poke at the teenager all the more, fuel added to the fire. A spark amidst the soggy bonfire that resembled his weariness.[break][break]

“And what did Kama get for being the true victor of the day? Not free pizza and crepes, I bet.”[break][break]

It’s then that a rattling sound could be heard beyond the door from the depths of the sterile, blank corridor, snagging onto Angelo’s attention and urging the courier to flicker a look beyond the break room threshold. [break][break]

Stopping just outside, dear ol' hospital worker Valerie (or so was the name emblazoned boldly on her nametag) pulled up with her food trolley, on her way to delivering the patients breakfasts. Rows of trays were stacked neatly on the wheeled catering cart, along with carefully balanced jugs of orange juice and pots filled with an assortment of general breakfast condiments. [break][break]

There’s also a holder filled with straws in plastic wrapping. Not very good for the environment but hey, it’s a straw.[break][break]

Angelo slips out of the door, approaching the attendant with a frank request for a straw and reappearing a moment later with his prize, tactics left a mystery.
[break][break]
“Easier than walking out of a harbour,” he hums with intentional cheek, ripping the plastic wrapper off with his teeth before going for Doug’s can of coke and cracking the tab with a satisfying psssh-pop. “Go on then. I'll bite. How did you get back to school, anyway?” [break][break]

He balances the coke on the low couch-side table. Doug no doubt having to hunch to reach it.
[break][break]



[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

Straw snatched out of his grip, Angelo shoots the teenage Bug Catcher an arched brow and a grin that very nearly looks like its bordering on forming some choice, playful curse words. Whether he restrains himself by will or can't get them out because of fatigue, is up in the air. [break][break]

Plopping himself back down in his assigned chair, slumping against the backrest, Angelo listens as Doug continues to regale him with his story. He’d be tempted to close his eyes, his lids heavy like a weight is pulling them down that's made worse by the seat – no doubt the cheapest one money could by – suddenly making him feel like he’s reclined in the clouds. [break][break]

However, despite the way he nonchalantly grabs the packet of crisps and rustles them, he is quite interested in where this tale will go… [break][break]

Angelo chews purposefully noisily through the dramatic pause. Taking his time to finish off his potato chip, even running his tongue over his teeth – irritatingly slow – before raising a brow, an annoying grin on his lips.[break][break]

“Who? Fuchsia City Ninja? The Galarian Queen?”


[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy

“Mff no’ bor’” Angelo insists with his mouth full, potato chips sticking to the roof of his mouth and fragmenting his words as Doug puffs up his cheeks like an angry Dedenne. He chews some more, grinning to himself as he takes his time until he swallows and only then rephrasing his earlier protest. “Stop stalling and tell me the rest of the story.” [break][break]

Angelo wonders how quickly a Probopass could float and whether the police had needed to give chase after the ‘reckless’ teenagers via vehicle. Or whether they’d just needed to casually stroll after them to catch up with the traffic-jamming-criminals as they attempted a 'speedy' getaway. It’s an amusing image, at least. [break][break]

“You think that’s why she took the housesitting job with me? To lie low from the cops?” He muses, considering it a high possibility that chryssa glasgow has been – or someday will be – a girl on the run from the law. [break][break]

A potato chip is flicked at Doug as he pretended to snooze. [break][break]

How neither of them have crashed into unconsciousness where they sat, he’ll never know…



[break][break]

+ John Sullivan [break][break]
+ pre autograph & autopsy